


So Weird

by SuedeScripture



Category: Actor RPF, Star Trek RPF
Genre: First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-13
Updated: 2013-06-13
Packaged: 2017-12-14 20:25:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/841017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuedeScripture/pseuds/SuedeScripture
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chris gets curious, Zach gets annoyed. Set sometime near/at the end of filming of <i>Star Trek</i> (2009).</p>
            </blockquote>





	So Weird

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, I've never written this pairing/fandom, never even read in it before this week (I have no idea why the second movie bowled me over so much harder than the first, which I also loved), so hopefully I didn't fuck up your boys too badly. Apparently this was a thing that I had to get out of my system before I go back to my safe place. I hope you like it, though, cuz damn, I had a blast playing in your sandbox.

"Jesus will you just _stop_?" Zach says. Hisses, almost, through his teeth, and Chris swiftly unwinds his arms from his shoulders and takes a step back, eyebrows in the air.

Zach pivots on his heel, exhaling hard, just once, and bites his lip as he looks at the floor. He thrusts a hand through his hair and then pockets them both, pretending to be interested in the crowd at this studio meet-and-greet, buttering-up-the-suits, contractually obligated… thing.

Chris clears his throat and darts his tongue over his lips, grabbing for a glass of chardonnay on the tables nearby. "Sorry, man. Too much?"

Zach doesn't condescend to to answer that. He's tired, they've been doing press and promo shit that is nearly as grueling as the end-of-filming schedule has been, and it would only get more hectic from here. He shakes his head with irritation.

Chris hanging on him is a given every damn day, and ordinarily he doesn't mind it so much. Who the fuck would? But right now work is insane, pandering to these people is bullshit, he's had a long dry spell, and yeah, it's too much.

"I mean you… you never said anything before now," Chris says, and it's just like Chris to not know when to stop running his mouth. "I thought you liked it."

"I do," Zach blurts, and fuck, he didn't mean to say that out loud, in that tone of voice. He flicks a quick glance up to see Chris looking stunned—stunned like he's just now figured it all out—and Zach darts around him for a glass of red himself. Taking it with him, he sidles up to Zoe as she flirts like she's being paid with some suit who'd like to think he has a chance of getting in her pants. _She'd neuter you_ , he tries to let the prick know with his eyes, before they wander back to find Chris.

He stands near Karl, pretending to be part of the conversation, but his eyes are still on Zach.

*

Several days later, their obligations having finally set them free, they play Scrabble in Chris' living room. The score stands at 345 to 342. Chris is leading, which is astonishing, but having played E A R W A X early on and getting the X on a fucking triple was the only reason that was even possible. Zach has a set consisting of L, L, V, P, S, Z, and J and nothing at all to show for it.

"So, uh…" Chris says, taking a swig from his beer where he sits, cross-legged on the floor on the opposite side of the coffee table with the TV behind him. "About the other night."

Zach inhales through his nose. So they _were_ gonna talk about it.

"I really am sorry, you know?" Chris raises crystalline eyes to him while his fingers straighten words already laid out on the board. "I didn't realize I was bothering you so much. You could have just said."

"I guess I did say," he murmurs at his letters in answer. Chris hasn't so much as stood nearby him since that evening, outside of whatever was called for on-camera and in interviews and photoshoots, and the lack of it was nearly as hard to bear as the full brunt of Chris' usual level of affection.

"Yeah," Chris acknowledges. "I meant before that, though."

"No, I didn't even mean it like that, anyway," Zach huffs his annoyance at all this, darting a quick look across at him. "I was just in a bitchy mood that night. Don't worry about it, you know?"

Chris nods, and nods some more, and there's obviously more on his mind that he's not coming out with. Zach waits for it, taking the V from the middle of his tiles and putting it in the front.

"I just had the impression you didn't mind me being handsy with you."

"I don't," Zach clarifies. "I told you, I was in a mood."

"That time of the month, eh?" Chris deadpans, and Zach delivers him the eyeroll that absolutely deserved and gets a wide shit-eating grin in return.

Chris drinks and licks his lips again, futzing with the bag of tiles between his legs, making muffled tinkly sounds inside the velvet. Zach can see it plop up and down obscenely between his legs though the glass table top.

"Just… other gay friends of mine never minded either, so…"

Zach presses the tip of his tongue against the back surface of his teeth, eyes hovering on a corner of the board now. In the nearly a year or so that they've been acquainted, and six months of that as castmates and pretty close friends, Chris hasn't ever brought this up. It wasn't a secret, exactly, not among anyone who mattered to him. But it wasn't a topic of everyday conversations either.

Chris has a problem with letting things go when they ought to have gone. "They always seemed to like it."

Zach plays 'L A', which is a bullshit, end-of-game, _I got nothing_ sort of word, which earns him the appropriate moue of distaste from Chris' mouth as he adds a few points to Zach's tally with the stubby pencil, which does bring him back on top. _Pun not intended_ , Zach thinks, sitting back to stretch one long leg out on the floor where he sits between the couch and the table himself.

Chris is watching him instead of playing his letters, the bag of tiles quietly shuffling up and down, up and down in the space between his folded legs.

"Are you gonna play your turn or keep trying to get me to look at your crotch?" Zach finally drawls, and Chris hastily lifts the bag of tiles onto the table top, looking sheepish. He toys with his own letters while Zach picks another from the velvet bag, which is far warmer than it should be in the air-conditioned room. He's given a K. Spectacular.

"You said you liked it."

The _coup de grace_. "Play your hand, Chris."

"Thought I was."

 _Fuck_.

"You said you liked it," he repeats.

"Of course I like it," Zach fires back. "Of course your other gay friends like it when you're all over them, Chris, how obtuse are you? Look at you."

Chris has the grace to blush and look down at his own letters.

Zach sighs, "I don't mind it. Usually. Just… sometimes it's hard, okay?"

Chris' eyebrow jumps up with a smirk, and Zach amends loudly, " _Difficult. Arduous. Burdensome._ "

"Hard," Chris affirms.

"That too."

Chris laughs, shaking his head, and sets down 'A T' on the crowded board, knocking his score up above Zach's again. He drains the rest of his beer and unfolds himself from the floor to pull a fresh one from the fridge. He comes back with two cracked, sitting back down in a rustle of satiny basketball shorts and hands the cold bottle across the table. Zach hopes that's the end of it. But of course it's not.

"I just… never thought of it like that before," Chris says. "Us, like that."

"Yeah, well," Zach sighs, "You don't have to. And I shouldn't, so. It's not a big deal."

Chris takes a long drink from his new beer, licking the foam from his mouth afterward, and fuck if Zach's letters didn't finally pop right out at him. And he finds a sneaky little spot where it'll fit. 'L I P S'. Even the goddamn board game is smiting him.

"If you were to think about it, though," Chris says slowly to the score card in his hand. "What would you want?"

Zach blinks a few times, wondering if he heard that in real life or if it was a manufactured fantasy his brain had just thrown out there. "Look, just forget it. Add up my points."

"Well, no, I mean—"

"Add up my points. I beat you."

Chris does, ruefully. "351 to 348."

"HAH," Zach slaps the table and the tiles jump.

"With 'lips'," Chris amends, and deliberately licks his again. Zach's eyes dart and focus before he can stop them, and Chris inhales softly through the opening there where his tongue had retreated. "Wow," he murmurs, eyes studying Zach's face.

Zach drops his eyes to his hands.

"I've never seen you do that," Chris says softly, and fucking keeps talking. "I mean, I know what it means, I've just never seen you look at me that way before."

Smearing the tiles in a mess across the board, Zach ratchets himself up off the floor and onto the couch properly, stretching his legs out under the coffee table. He's done with this game and this conversation.

"So, if you were to think about it—"

"Chris, I had a shitty night, I was frustrated and tired and everything was getting to me, okay." Zach pushes both hands through his hair and leaves them draped over the back of the cushion. "You're over-thinking. Let it go."

"But what if I was, like… curious?"

"Oh my god, this isn't fucking happening to me right now," Zach groans, grinding the heels of his hands into his eyes. Maybe Chris and his fucking curiosity will disappear if he does.

He has friends with stories about straight friends and their curiosity fucks. He's had the straight friend in high school who blacked the shit out of his eye when he'd hoped for curiosity. He'd even had the impossible-to-ignore advances of a supposedly straight hot-as-hell jock who, it turned out, did it on a bet to embarrass the hell out of him and get him bullied for all eternity, or at least for the rest of his time at that school.

And he's outgrown that shit. It happened, high school sucks, it gets better. Seriously, fuck Chris. Who by the soft whish-sound of clothing and the movement of the cushions beside him, has invited himself to the fucking couch. He could practically feel those laser beam fucking eyes of his burning through him.

He peeks out from under his palm, and yeah, Chris is looking, although not laser-beamy or lecherously or evilly or even jokingly. He offers a small smile and looks away, taking another gulp from his beer. Zach reaches for his own from the coffee table and downs a third of it. Three beers deep is not even enough alcohol to be having this conversation.

"Since when did you look at me like that?" Chris asks, genuine interest beneath it.

"Since when do you think about this shit?"

Chris shrugs, setting his bottle back down, "Fuck, I don't know. I just never thought about it with you, and that night I did. I mean, it's not like guys haven't propositioned me before, but you've never so much as looked at me like they did. Before."

"And you didn't get your curiosity groping done back in school in San Fran?" Zach shoots back, earning a glare that was probably deserved. "What, it's not like there wouldn't have been opportunities."

"What would you want?" Chris asks, point blank, yet again, "What do you think of when you look at me?"

"Your ego is opprobrious," Zach mops his hand over his face and back through his hair and sets his beer beside the others. The word gets Chris to smile bashfully, which is cuter than it has any right to be right now. "Look at you, you _expect_ to be ogled! And because I didn't, now you want to see if you can make me? You fucking slut."

" _Opprobrious_. C'mon, Zach, I just want to know what's going on in that head of yours." He tilts his head, one forearm braced across the top of the sofa as he turns a bit to look at Zach's face. "What would you want, if I was to… I dunno. Offer whatever."

"Jesus, Chris. You're an idiot," Zach heaves a strained laugh. "Offer "whatever" to any other _friends_ you have and see if you don't wake up strapped in some rig you've only seen in a porno with your ass feeling like a tractor drove through it."

"So you're into kinky stuff," Chris wiggles his eyebrows, "Bondage. Latex. Assless chaps. I know you've got naughty trunk of toys somewhere."

"Fuck you," Zach whines, his knee bouncing hard as he rubs his eyes. "On second thought, no. We aren't even going there."

"Relax," Chris laughs, resting his cheek against his own knuckles as he focuses on Zach's face. "Why are you so freaked out? It's just me, man."

"Because. You're straight. It's cool," Zach snaps, "But shit like this makes things get weird, okay? I mean, we're friends. We're coworkers. We're signed for two more movies. That's gonna be like the next twelve years of our lives here. I don't want to epically fuck up a good relationship because all of a sudden Captain Kirk got curious."

"It's not that sudden," Chris answers. "And I wouldn't get weird about it. Not with you."

The idea that maybe Chris is actually legitimately bi-curious is bizarre. Zach's never so much as gotten an inkling of that vibe from him, no matter how handsy he is. And anyway, a guy like him, the Type A, sex-driven, guy's guy he is, he would have gotten this shit out of his system ages ago. He _should_ have. "What difference do I make?" Zach plucks at a tiny hole in the thigh of his yoga sweats. "Why not any one of your other friends?"

"I dunno," Chris murmurs, and his eyes watch Zach's fingers poking at the hole in the cotton. "I trust you more than them. You're a good guy." His free hand moves and a fingertip very lightly strokes over the hairy part of Zach's hand, just above his wrist. And such a minuscule touch shouldn't be so goddamn puritanically sexual. His skin is on fire from it. Chris smells like beer and sweat and Tom Ford aftershave. "You're ingenuous."

"You're an asshole."

Chris smirks, but his fingers don't leave, they just keep stroking. "Just tell me. What would you want? You like my mouth. I saw that."

Zach grinds his molars together. "If you ask if you can blow me, I'll kill you."

" _After_ I blow you," Chris grins, and pushes his crinkled face into his bicep in a way that's so downright coquettish that Zach groans from his chest.

His brain is shorting the fuck out. He brings his other hand off the sofa, cupping Chris' jaw and then sliding it back to palm his neck. _Fuck it_. "This is a one-time pass, Pine," he growls, and leans in to kiss him.

Chris' lips are as soft as they look, actually. Plush and warm and he knows how to use them, and knows how to get his tongue through them too, twining with Zach's briefly before reaching and curling and inviting him into the slick, hot brilliance of his mouth. It's slow and studied, the way Chris kisses, Zach thinks. Advanced, experimental, unworried. When they pause, Chris murmurs, "Not my first gay kiss, by the way."

"Of course not," Zach rumbles, pushing his hand up into the hair at the back of his head to pull him closer, to deepen the kissing, opening his mouth wider and tilting to fit together better.

Chris takes that as invitation to straddle his lap, and fuck, that is somewhat unexpected. Because the basketball shorts are thin and loose to be cool in the hot California summer, and kind of leave nothing to the imagination when his friend's ass settles on his thighs. Zach's at a loss with what to do with his hands, which in any similar situation would be all over where they fucking _can't be_ , right now. He settles on lighting them low on Chris' waist, which is a mistake in itself, because his waist is slender and his bubble butt is just sticking out there under his fingertips and he wants really badly to get a good bruising grip on it and yank. He groans into Chris' mouth—frustration, desire, all the things that got him into this stupid situation in the first place, and dammit, Chris just smiles against his mouth like he knows it.

"What do you want?" he asks again, his voice gone low and gravelly and sultry. "What do you think about?"

"This," Zach confesses in a whisper. "Kissing you."

"What else?"

Zach shakes his head briefly, still mouthing at his bottom lip.

"Really?" Chris pulls back a little, grinning, "That's it? What a romantic."

Nothing else. Nothing else because it's off limits, not worth the cocktease. Although this turn of events is not keeping the chalk lines of his pre-set limitations from blowing right the fuck away. Chris lifts his weight on his knees for a second to readjust how he's sitting, and the movement of it, the flex of muscle in his back, the shift of the seat cushions on either side, the heat of the insides of his thighs along the outsides of his own is driving Zach insane. Chris scoots and sits and then freezes, the realization that they're both hard and pressed together through nothing but a couple thin layers of cloth dawns on Chris' face. He exhales with a shudder, pausing this little make-out to lock eyes with Zach, and the blue is liquid, piercing, almost drunk. Zach steels himself for rejection, "Still curious?"

Chris sucks in a breath, holds it as he braces his hands on Zach's shoulders, and rolls his hips slowly up again. His forehead braces against Zach's as his dick twitches in his pants, nestled up against his own, and he exhales a bewildered whisper, "Fuck, that's insane."

Zach stares at Chris' face, watching him react, and it sinks in; Chris really hasn't ever done this, probably nothing beyond kissing guys, but he's into it. He likes it. And the idea of actually doing it, of showing Chris a few things he doesn't already know about him, of getting his hands and his mouth all over that amazing body and unhinging the unhingeable Chris fucking Pine… it's breathtakingly powerful. "Yeah it is," he responds, nudging his lips back in to kiss and lick and suck over Chris' chin, jaw, neck. He bites gently just at that sensitive place where his stubble ends. Chris makes a tiny noise and rolls his hips again and Zach grins against his pulse, his confidence kicking into gear.

He slides his hands up Chris' chest, up to frame his face in both hands, stilling him and willing his own heart rate to slow down a bit. "Hey. You say stop, and I will. I mean it."

Chris looks dazed and then refocuses, recognizing an important point is being made. Then he grins, his tongue darting along the edge of his teeth. "Is that code for 'I'm about to go ballistic on your ass?'"

Zach sucks in a breath between his teeth, dropping his hands decidedly to the ass in question and looks back up from under his brows as he squeezes it, rocking his hips up. He enunciates his words slowly, "You have no idea how ballistic I could go on your ass."

Chris huffs out a stunned, "Okay." His heart is racing, thundering, Zach can feel it against his groin.

"I mean it," Zach reiterates, while he can. "If you freak out, I'll quit. No questions asked."

"Yeah, okay," Chris murmurs. One hand holds behind Zach's nape, and the other drops back to brace on Zach's knee, giving him leverage to press his crotch down harder in his lap. "So go ballistic."

Zach growls and pulses his hips up, watching Chris' eyes struggle not to roll back, "You are so fucking lucky I'm a nice guy."

He gets a hand in the small of Chris's back, the other cupping his neck to reach his mouth again, hot, wet, the beer-taste departing for nothing but the taste of his slick tongue. He keeps his hips moving in an easy, rhythmic up-thrust against Chris' less practiced wriggles in this position, a lapdance of inexperience and thrilled nerve endings. Chris starts to pant too hard to keep kissing, and he lifts his face to the ceiling to let Zach attack his neck and earlobes and collarbones.

Zach tugs the neckline of the tank down and to the side to reach a nipple over a hard, trained pec, circling it with his tongue and closing his mouth over it to suck. Chris moans, scooting back a little suddenly to break the contact between their cocks. He takes a deep breath, pushing a fisted hand down against his groin, and even when his knuckles accidentally just brush Zach's balls in his sweats, Zach leans back, watching him carefully as he catches his breath himself, "Okay?"

Chris laughs breathlessly, a blush painted across his cheeks, "Just need a breather."

Zach grins, letting go of the neck of Chris' shirt and instead pushing his fingers up under the hem, his thumb stroking just to the right of Chris' bellybutton. Sitting here with Chris in his lap is utterly fucking ridiculous, and perfect. "Fuck," he laughs, realizing how weird this is. "We're too old for this shit."

"Speak for yourself, I feel like I'm fourteen right now," Chris giggles, his eyes shifting over Zach's face like he's never seen him before. "You're a good kisser," he says, and the blush crawls down his neck as he glances down and then away from the tents they're blatantly pitching.

"So are you," Zach returns, lifting a hand to bring Chris face back to center and press his thumb up against that plush, perfect bottom lip, something he's wanted to do forever. Chris's eyes dart between his, and then his eyes glint and he bites gently at the tip. Zach makes breathy noise of arousal, pulling it away and tilting his head to drill him with a look that says _baby, don't tease_ , and Chris gets it. His face crinkles up with coy glee as he laughs. Zach cups it in both hands to kiss him again; his mouth, his chin, those fantastic smile-creases under his eyes. "You're so gorgeous," he whispers between kisses, and then fears that was saying too much, revealing too much.

Chris' smile has softened out to just his face at those words, and before Zach can take a deep breath and lift him gently off and put an end to this, Chris presses in to kiss him back, once again slowly, mostly lips and heat. His eyes are closed finally, closed for the first time since this started. Zach closes his own and kisses him with feeling, a huge bubble of it swelling in his chest as he revels in the hot wet heat of Chris' mouth and then his sharp jaw line and the soft place underneath it. Chris' hand pushes up to grip in his hair.

"Fuck, I like your mouth, too," Chris breathes, with less amusement and more sincerity than before. Zach hesitates, his lips dragging damply over Chris' adam's apple at all the different ways he can interpret that. He glances back up at Chris eyes, looking for any trace of fear and finding only challenge there.

Groaning, he pushes Chris's tank up to his armpits, leaning him back to bite and suck at his nipples, getting them to tighten up into hot little points. Chris' abs move in and out with his breath as Zach applies his teeth. He's gentle, not marking (wants to), and Chris stifles every little noise that tries to come up. Zach wants to tell him to let it go, make those sounds, wants to hear them so bad. Isn't it ironic that now that it comes to this, Chris has finally fucking shut up.

He moves, his arms lifting off of Zach, but it's only to grab the back of his tank and pull it off, dropping it off the couch, and then his hands are back, fingers scrunching the fabric of Zach's tee at the shoulder. His pupils are dark, blown wider than they should be in afternoon sunlight. Chris hands—which so often were on him, around his shoulders, his waist, ruffing up his hair, grabbing his stomach to make him squeal on set—are still, tentative and almost asking permission now.

Straightening up, Zach grabs the back of his collar and pulls the t-shirt off over his head, dropping it over the back of the sofa and leaving his arm draped there. He lies back, waiting for Chris' hands, because he wanted to touch, isn't that what brought this on? When they don't, he takes one by the wrist, lifting it to his mouth to kiss open-mouthed at the fleshy heel of his thumb before letting it go. Chris doesn't drop his hand and pull it back, but it lands back on Zach's shoulder as he'd hoped, the heel of his thumb still damp from the kiss. He brushes his thumb lower, through the dark patch of hair there, just below his collarbones. His other hand comes up to just press flat against his solar plexus, feeling his chest move with his breathing.

"Weird?" Zach rumbles, and Chris nearly jumps at the sound and feel of his voice under his hand, but laughs it off.

"So weird," Chris mumbles, then teases, "You're weird."

"You are," Zach shoots back, catching both Chris' wrists before he smacks him. He tugs them around his neck and then grabs Chris' ass, lifting him bodily to throw him down longways on the couch.

 _ _"Jesus Christ!" Chris shouts, looking back up at him from his flail against the sofa arm as Zach grins above him. "A little warning before you fucking…_ manhandle_ me, okay, it's my first time."

Crawling up between Chris' sprawled legs, Zach rolls their hips and bare chests back together in a way that wipes all the playful amusement right off Chris' face. Settling on his elbows above him, he drops a kiss on his cheek and rumbles low, "But I haven't even started yet," he kisses the opposite cheek, "Manhandling."

And Chris breathes, "Fuck."

"No," Zach grins against his jaw, nibbling there.

"No, I mean," Chris laughs breathlessly, "You're weird like this. Sexy weird."

"Are you freaking out?" Zack asks, pulling back a little to look at Chris' face again. Because yeah, Chris just called him sexy, and he's blown right past those limitations he used to have five minutes ago, and he really, _really_ wants to keep going.

"Yeah, a little," Chris says. Zach moves to pull off him, but he grabs his hips to keep him there, "I didn't say I didn't like it."

Taking a deep breath, Zach settles back onto him, but drops his eyes safely over Chris' shoulder to the patterned fabric of the pillow. He licks his lips and tries to find a somewhat not-completely-turned-on tone of voice, and fails pretty hard. "Chris, I'm like ten seconds away from pulling your cock out and swallowing it, so now _really is_ the time to be backing out of this."

Chris looks floored, and he's actually trembling a little underneath him, so Zach forgives him taking a few of those ten seconds to lick his goddamn lips before he answers that.

"Um, I… fuck," he says, squeezing his eyes shut a few times, before he squirms so fucking enticingly beneath him, cocks grinding together. "I… God, I can't even refuse an offer like that, though."

Zach pushes down to kiss him, hard and with every intention of a prelude to what he's about to do, of the passion he's felt at times about Chris' personality and intelligence and effortless sensuality. Chris seems to realize it, too, because he whimpers into this kiss, and that's a noise Zach likes a lot, wants more of.

He mouths down Chris' throat, bites the tip of his collarbone hard enough to get a lovely little "ah!" sound that is squashed between Chris' teeth, and moves back to suck on his right nipple until it's all plump and rock hard again. He does the same to the other, earning a nice pained grunt from Chris before he scoots down, down to lick at the lovely hair around his bellybutton, and Zach is so aroused now he can't keep it to himself anymore. "God, you taste fucking amazing," he growls, licking and sucking down the trail of hair until he's stopped by the elastic of Chris' shorts. And Chris is hard as hell, the crown of his cock pushing the flimsy fabric up past where the waistband sits. Zach has to lift the waistband up to hook it out, push the shorts down under his balls and finally get a good close look at the whole length of him. "Fuck, Chris."

Chris's eyes might be closed, or might be cracked open, it's hard to tell from this distance, but he's panting, his chest—with his red, abused nipples—is rising and falling with each breath. He's got one hand resting just above where Zach's saliva trail is still shining on his belly, and the other arm thrown up and curled around his head, bicep brushing his temple as if to hide his face in. Zach wants him to watch, since Chris was so fucking curious, but… he tries to center himself and count his blessings that he's being allowed this at all. He takes a deep, heavy breath full of the scent of cock under his nose, tilts his head, and mouths him right across the base.

Chris' hips tilt up and he gasps loud in surprise, eyes fluttering wide. "That's right," Zach says sassily, "Not the routine you're used to, is it?" He gets both arms across Chris' thighs and his hands on his hips, effectively holding him down while he licks all around the base of Chris' dick, mouthing at each of his balls to watch them tighten up. He grins at Chris' attempts not to react, biting him high up on the inside of one thigh just above where the elastic of his shorts cling. Chris jerks up with groan, his abs gone fused and his mouth wide. Tonguing the little marks he'd made, Zach leans up to breathe hot over the length of him, relishing the heady aroma and the way it throbs with every beat of his heart. He presses a kiss just under the crown, and Chris' eyebrows pinch in the middle as he shivers, drops of sweat breaking out over his chest as the hand closest comes down to grab the hair at the top of Zach's head and insist that yes, he really does want this, please, right now, thanks.

Zach grins wide, looking back up and waiting for the flash of flame blue when Chris inevitably peeks down. He does, looking debauched and wanton and so needy, and as Zach closes his lips over the head, Chris chokes off a noise, his fingers tightening in his hair.

He tongues over the spongy flesh, wriggling up against the slit until he tastes the results of it covering his tongue and groans at the amplified flavor. Lifting up to tuck his knees up under Chris' legs, he holds him at the base to bring him up off his belly and does what he promised, takes him down all the way in one go, swallowing until his nose is buried in Chris' pubes.

"Oh fuck," the awed voice erupts above him as he holds Chris' fighting hips down against the cushions, drawing all the way back up and then diving again. He can do this five or six times before he has to stop to catch his breath, so by the sixth dive when he pulls off and works Chris in his hand while he recovers, Chris is absolutely fucking writhing. He's got both arms over his head, gripping the arm of the couch like an anchor, sweating and ruddy from his forehead to his chest, and he's so hard he's dark red and leaking steadily.

Zach licks it up, all over Chris' dick to get him wet and then blows lightly to cool it down, making Chris shiver again, gooseflesh popping up under the sweat all over his chest. Fuck, he's so reactive, even when he tries not to be, tries to hold down those noises, tries to pretend he's not enjoying this as much as he is. "You're so close already, aren't you," Zach lays his head on Chris' hip, breathes hard across the hot pulsing flesh, and Chris nods minutely, biceps bulging near his ears as he grips the sofa like a life raft. "You're gonna come so hard for me, Chris," he growls, speaking against his hot skin. "You're gonna come down my throat."

"Zach," Chris gasps his name like he's right on the edge, and Zach lifts up and takes him in his mouth again. He bobs, not the full-length assault of before, but an easy, steady, light rhythm, meant to drive Chris insane while he lingers on the edge of a cliff. Chris hacks out a glorious needy noise with each upstroke, a near sob of desperation, finally losing the consciousness of worrying about who's listening. Both hands drop to grab the sides of Zach's head, gripping his hair hard as it begins, a thick, strong pulse and Chris' hips fly up as he comes, hot and intense spurts against the roof of his mouth. Zack swallows most of it, pulling off at the end to watch the last sluggish globs ooze out and run down. He moans, licking up the rest from Chris' cock.

"God," Chris whimpers above him, one arm thrown over his eyes, but not quite entirely enough to stop him from peeking down under his bicep as Zach licks the last tastes from his own lips. His own cock is screaming at him at the sight, Chris shuddering and shaking in the aftermath and yes, watching him, watching Zach finish him off.

He struggles for control, wanting nothing more than to prowl up there and come all over Chris' face right now, but instead he pillows his forehead against Chris' stomach for a second before pulling away, turning to sit on the couch properly, though with Chris' knee awkwardly digging in his back and the other propped in his lap. He closes his eyes and leans his head back on the cushion, trying to gather himself for the inescapable awkwardness to come.

Until Chris' hand is grabbing at his wrist.

Zach shakes his head without opening his eyes, "Chris…"

"No, c'mere."

Zach's head is about to explode. "Not a good idea."

"Get up here, fucker, before I lose my nerve."

"Oh my god," Zach lunges over him, kissing him hard enough to thunk his head back against the sofa arm, and yeah, _that's the taste of your come in my mouth, asshole_ , he thinks as Chris groans. But then Chris' hands are on his back, and pushing down under the waistband of his sweats, one settling on an ass cheek and the other, the other _oh god_ is wriggling around to the front, between their bodies and finding his dick.

"Unh," Zach gasps, high-pitched against Chris's lips, and the angle is awkward but Chris' hand grips, makes a fist for him to pump into, and he does, wildly. "Fuck, Chris, I'm going to—"

"Do it. Come."

Zach does, shooting in strong heavy bursts between their bellies and against Chris' wrist, gasping into his neck with the force of it.

When he comes back to himself and tries to lift off on shaky arms, Chris holds him down, one hand sticky and still underneath his pants, but having moved from cock to hip. He barely hears the word "stay" fall from his lips.

"Chris…"

"Fuck you, I like to cuddle."

Zach laughs in utter disbelief into his neck, relaxing fully onto him now. They rest for long, uncounted minutes, until their breathing finally evens out, and Zach eyes the decimated Scrabble board and beer bottles on the coffee table from under Chris' chin, relics of the time Before.

"So, is it weird?" he finally asks in a whisper, afraid of all the places this could go.

"So weird," Chris says. His voice isn't uncomfortable though. In fact, he still sounds curious, dammit.

Zach props his head up on an elbow to look at him. "How much thought did you put into this little venture?"

"Not much," Chris says to the ceiling, "You kinda blew my mind."

"Among other things."

Bright eyes flicking to his, Chris laughs, his eyes crinkling up and chin tucking. He finally pulls his hand out of Zack's pants and looks at it like it's a foreign creature with come all over it, but not one that quite grosses him out enough to move.

"That was kind of nuts, Z," he murmurs, "Kinda fucking…"

Zach leans in to murmur in his ear, "Something you didn't know I was good at."

Chris bubbles up with laughter again. "Yeah. Fuck me, right?"

"Nope," Zach giggles back. "No way."

"No fucking way," Chris brings the sticky hand up to show him. Zach takes his wrist, sucks at the sharp bone there, tasting himself and hearing Chris inhale through his nose.

"That's what you get for being curious."

"Yeah," Chris smiles, "Sexy weird Quinto going ballistic on me."

"Sexy?" Zach asks. Fuck, he loves hearing that.

"Sexy weird. It's a distinction."

"I can live with it," Zach grins. "I'm gonna kiss you one more time and then this can be filed away under Weird Shit We Did Together."

He does, languidly enjoying Chris' soft, amazing post-coital mouth once more before Chris pulls back, "Wait, does that file in with Filming Weird TV Shows As Movies? Because that's not even remotely over."

Zach looks at him closely. "If you fall in love with me just because I give a good blowjob, I will end you." He pushes off, finally standing and readjusting the splotchy waist of his sweatpants. Chris is still hanging out of his basketball shorts with a soft dick and a Zach-shaped mess on his belly, and it's beautiful, and off limits again. He bends down, grabbing Chris' tank from the floor and covers him with it. "You need to shower. And I'm gonna steal some of your clean shorts, okay," and he heads for the hallway to Chris' bedroom.

"Zach," Chris calls, and Zach doesn't turn to look at him, just stops, pushes his hands through his hair, biting his lip as he waits for it.

"Thanks," Chris says, sincerely. Zach turns and Chris is sitting up, shorts back in place and his shirt in his hands, pushing the clean one through his own hair before gesturing. "It's not really so weird, you know?"

Zach allows himself to grin, knowing Chris is trying to make this work out in a good way, because Chris, for all his faults, is ingenuous too. "Yeah it is."


End file.
